


'Colin'

by LizzlyBear96



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Depression, M/M, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzlyBear96/pseuds/LizzlyBear96
Summary: Based around the song 'Talia' by King Princess, a fantastic and beautiful song. Contains graphic suicide, and shows the downward spiral one can take when someone passes on. Please proceed with caution if that will make you upset.





	'Colin'

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this fic definitely helped curb my own thoughts about comitting suicide. It's been rough lately, but this helped. Thank you guys for reading it, if you do, and I'm sorry it's a little heavy, and really sad. But I hope you like the concept. And, it's a really great song, I would recommend anyone to listen to it. King Princess' voice is amazing, and sad, and gives a sense of pain that one can relate to.

_ (Hey, my love, I buried you a month or two ago) _

 

Ryan ground his teeth together, sitting on a hotel bed. He stared down at an old photo, caressing its sides and its broken glass. It was happy photo; him, and Colin, a gentle embrace, as someone unknown took their photo. They didn't matter. He couldn't help but glare bitterly as the sour and harsh taste of alcohol was brought to his lips once more in a small, cold bottle.

  
  


_ (I keep thinking that you're standing on my floor) _

 

He could remember the moment like it were yesterday. Ryan could remember it _all_ like it were yesterday. He could remember the touch, the softness of pale skin, the warmth created by his sheer presence. Everything about him was perfect, and he alone had ruined it. He ruined it all. 

 

_ (That you're waiting there for me) _

 

Ryan closed his eyes, as memories of that night rushed back to him, memories he had long since been trying to drown out in anyway he could. 

  
  


_ (Hey, my love) _

 

It was just a fight. Another small fight. It escalated into something neither one of them wanted to. Tempers rose, words were slung around like punches and cuts, wounds deepening each time around.

 

_ (You've walked out a hundred times, how was I) _

 

"Then get out," he said. "Get out; no one loves you, and I don’t either. This was never going to work; why did we try? What were we trying to prove?"

 

The door slammed hard that night, and Ryan huffed around the room, shaking his head. His hip bumped into a table, and he cursed it. The picture fell over, and he picked it up, glancing over it, and holding it tightly in his hands, caressing the details of the frame. With a loud, guttural yell, he slammed it, shattering the glass. 

 

Why did he have to do that? 

 

The hours passed, and Ryan began to feel guilty, began to feel sorry. The hours passed, and Ryan began to feel worried. The hours passed, and Ryan began to realize that something was really, really wrong.

 

_ (Supposed to know this time that you wouldn't call) _

 

“It was… Suicide.” 

How long was Colin hiding it from him? How did it go so unnoticed?

  
  


_ (That you wouldn't come home) _

 

“I’m… I’m sorry, Ryan.”

  
  


_ (But four drinks I'm wasted) _

 

In a fit of drunken rage, Ryan stood up and spun around, throwing the bottle against the hotel wall, the crash of glass and smell of barley becoming all too familiar to him. He watched as the glass sprinkled to the ground, the liquid staining yet again another virgin wall.

  
  


_ (I can see you dancing, I can lay down next to you) _

 

There it was; the smile he loved so dearly. Holding hands, they danced a dance that was only for them. Maybe it wasn’t their wedding, but the way they stared into each other’s eyes, the tenderness in their touches, the other people meant nothing to them. A union of souls in one moment. And it was nothing but a damn flash of his memory.

  
  


_ (At the foot of my bed, If I drink enough) _

 

Ryan gripped at his hair, his eyes clenched shut as he lifted his head towards the ceiling. 

  
  


_ (I can taste your lipstick) _

 

Their first kiss, its passion and the tension that melted away as their lips met for the first time. The stories it held, the shared times, the untold everythings that would never be.

  
  


_ (I can lay down next to you) _

 

It shouldn’t have been this way. Colin shouldn’t be in there. That tuxedo that normally fit him so well, the face that off puttingly slept, the skin that no longer glowed, the things Ryan loved about him, now only served as a grim reminder of what this really was.

 

And he blamed no one, no one but himself. If it weren’t for him, Colin would be fine. He’d be laughing, smiling, consoling Ryan, getting him to talk. Why wasn’t he talking? He never went up for the final viewing. He pretended that the whole thing didn’t even exist, and even amongst the tears of everyone else, he simply stared away. 

 

He never even got to say a final goodbye. Not even a final, I love you. No; all he gave was something angry, and spiteful. A regret he silently held etched in his memory. 

 

'Let me lay with him.'

  
  
  


_ (But it's all in my head) _

 

Ryan let his grip slack, and his eyes open, as he let a sob escape his lips. Why was this his reality? Why did it have to be reality, God?

 

God; What had he done?

  
  


_ (If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you) _

 

He fell to his knees in the middle of the room, tears flowing warmly. He let his head hang low and he brought his thin limbs together, elbow to elbow, and knee to knee, hiding away from the world outside, and from the crushing reality that embedded itself within his head. He just wanted it all to disappear. Where was the other bottle? 

  
  
  


_ (When you left, you took my bestest friends away) _

 

No one could get through to him after six months. Not Drew, not Jeff, not Wayne, Brad, Greg; not anyone. It was as if their friend had completely changed, and become a different person. Angry, depressed, drunken. Where had their friend gone? 

  
  


“It’s like he’s fucking dead. I can’t fucking stand this anymore.”

  
  


“What do you expect? He died with him.”

  
  


“I’m fed up; I don’t know what else to do.”

  
  


“I’m worried, damn it, please,  _ stop _ . It’s been six months; you have  _ got  _ to stop.”

  
  


“You act like you’re the only one. How can you be so selfish? We lost one friend; don’t make us lose another. Please.”

  
  


_ (And in this mess, I think I dug a thousand graves) _

 

Ryan blamed himself for his isolation, and steadily rising alcohol addiction. He knew what he was doing. But nothing mattered, and he wasn’t planning on stopping. What did _ they _ know? Could they  _ really  _ understand? None of them could ever understand. Those bridges were burned, and he didn’t care. He’d burn them all if he had to. Fuck them, fuck this life, fuck it all. Ryan caressed the edges alongside the bridge, staring down at the water below, the rough edges digging into his fingertips. He gripped the neck of his prized possession; a close member of the family, Jack Daniels.

 

_ (Talia, I hope you're happy anyway) _

  
  


I blame _ you _ , Colin. 

 

I love you, Colin.

 

I  _ miss you _ , Colin. 

  
  
  


__

_ (But four drinks I'm wasted) _

 

How many times was he going to come back here? The same hotel, doing the same thing, on the same day, at the same time, near the same street. What was he trying to prove? Stumbling and setting the bottle down harshly on the counter, he laid back against the sheets, gripping close a collared shirt, treasuring the fading scent. 

  
  


_ (I can see you dancing, I can lay down next to you) _

 

For a moment, Ryan was calm. His face relaxed, and he let out a deep breath, inhaling the cologne and feeling the softness of the shirt, massaging it gently in his fingers.

  
  


_ (At the foot of my bed, If I drink enough) _

 

He closed his eyes, focusing on the musk scent and not the scent on his breath that dare taint the shirt and it’s memories.

  
  


_ (I can taste your lipstick,) _

 

There they were; kissing, holding each other close, bodies pressed against the wall in warmth and love, adoration. Time stopped every time they touched. The world was theirs, and theirs alone. Ryan could still smell him.

  
  


_ (I can lay down next to you) _

 

In a fit of laughter, their bodies fell onto the bed together in a heap. He was on top of Ryan, his arms on either side, a smile that could melt the hearts of millions, and it was just for him. Their lips met once again, and Ryan held them close, thinking that they would never part, and that this would last forever.

  
  


_ (But it's all in my head) _

 

Ryan opened his eyes, not even realizing that the tears were beginning to pool in the corners as the beautiful memories came flooding back to him. Who knew what a smell could bring? Why couldn’t it bring him back?

  
  


_ (If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you) _

 

He turned over to his side, curling into a fetal position as the collared shirt rested next to him in his hands, staring at nothing but darkness. He swore that he could see Colin’s deep, brown eyes staring back at him through his hazy vision. But, only for a small moment.

  
  
  


_ (Broke my heart now I'm wasting my time on you) _

 

'I’m sorry Colin.' Ryan wanted to say, but found he couldn't muster up the effort, only able to move his mouth slightly.

  
  


_ (Broke my heart now I'm wasting my time) _

 

'I’m so, sorry.' 

  
  


_ (If I drink enough) _

 

Ryan looked around the hotel room once again, his green eyes no longer vibrant, but instead tired. Sullen. The room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight that shone through the window, giving off a grey cast.

  
  


_ (I can see you dancing) _

 

Ryan traced his fingers delicately alongside the dresser, placing on it the broken photo. He held it a little longer, and then held it in his hands, staring at it with longing.

 

_ (I can lay down next to you) _

 

Ryan sat down on the edge of the bed, tossing down a black plastic bag, and once again, hanging his head low. 

  
  


_ (At the foot of my bed) _

  
  


He sat in silence for a while, before lifting his head again.

 

_ (If I drink enough) _

 

There was never enough to take the pain away. Nothing could fix this. It was his fault. All of this was his fault. Why was he alive in the first place? He didn't deserve to live. He'd ruined it all; he'd killed the one he loved, and he ruined the relationships around him. No job, no family, no friends, no nothing. There was nothing left.

  
  


_ (I can taste your lipstick) _

 

Ryan took in a deep, deep breath, trying to think rationally. But he’d lost his rationality so long ago. It was so, so long ago. When did it become so long ago? 

  
  


_ ( I can lay down next to you) _

 

He held the pills in his hand, staring them all down, reading over their descriptions one by one. He glanced over to his stash of alcohol, eyes becoming lidded. He cocked his mouth to the side.

  
  


_ (But it's all in my head) _

 

He stared at a point on the wall, lifeless and blank. He didn’t even realize that the tears were starting to come back again, falling down his face smoothly and as if on queue. He was so scared.

  
  


_ (But four drinks I'm wasted) _

 

A brisk shake of his head and choking back a quiet sob, he ripped open the bottle of medicine. One, by one, by one; xanax, ibuprofen, melatonin, anything he got his hands on, he took. He downed them all, chased back with a bottle of Crown, a bottle of vodka, a bottle of Jack, that all scorched the back of his throat, but nothing scorched the back of his throat more than the tears he kept contained. It seemed that no matter how many times he let go, it would always hurt. He was just so, tired. Why couldn’t it have ended sooner? He deserved the suffering.

  
  


_ (I can see you dancing) _

 

He thought about Colin and he thought about everything they had done together. Their lives.  _ Their  _ lives. Why didn’t he say it enough? How many times was enough? It was never enough. I love you, Colin. I love you. That’s all he wanted. He just wanted to say it again. He yearned for everything. What he would give to fix it, and to take back the things he said. 

  
  


_ (I can lay down next to you) _

 

Ryan could feel his vision fading in and out, and he could start to hear a small ringing in his ears. A sudden pang of panic ran through his chest, and he could feel his breathing become more shallow as the seconds passed. But, was it the panic, or was it the anxiety of the situation dawning on him?

  
  


_ (At the foot of my bed) _

 

He got up from his position on the bed, wondering how he was even able to walk in any form. 

  
  


_ (If I drink enough) _

 

Slamming the door open, he collapsed next to the toilet, and continued to breathe in shallow breaths, gripping to the toilet sides. He could feel his chest tightening, his heart skipping beat after beat.

  
  


_ (I can taste your lipstick) _

 

In his panic, he let the vomit fall from his mouth, trying desperately to aim for the toilet beneath him, but he could feel his grip slipping. The vomit landed on the toilet sides instead. 

  
  


_ (I can lay down next to you) _

 

Ryan fell backwards, hitting his head hard on the pristine white floor below him, the vomit beginning to pool within the back of his throat. Was this really it? Was it? He asked himself over and over and over and over…. It’s as if his mind was stuck on repeat.

  
  


_ (But it's all in my head) _

 

Breaths becoming shallower, and shallower, and his vision steadily declining, Ryan felt the slightest tinge of regret. He didn’t know if his head was okay, if it was bleeding, if he really succeeded this time. But it didn’t matter. He was afraid, and he was cold, but, all he had to do was wait. What would Colin say?

 

Just relax, Ry. Just relax. It’s going to be okay. 

 

Just…. Relax….

  
  


_ (If I drink enough) _

 

Memories flashed through his mind; memories of smiles, love, kisses, soft hands, brown eyes, dancing, warmth. All the good, all the bad.

 

As his eyes stayed open, staring at the ceiling, as his breath faded away, his world faded to black.

  
  


To bright, blinding, white, light.

  
  


_ (I swear)  _

 

Ryan was asleep on a bed. Nice and comfortable, soft; it was nothing like the hotel bed he had gotten used to for the past year. It felt warm, and it smelled like home. Even through closed eyes he could feel the sun beaming down.

  
  


_ (that I will)  _

 

The taller man opened his eyes, the sun making his eyes shine a beautiful green, and it made him squint. The sun made the entire room light up, and kept it warm. Through his grogginess, his eyes had to focus on the figure before him. And once it focused, he saw… He saw….

  
  


_ (wake up next to you) _

 

Colin stared at the other man, his mouth agape slightly, and tears falling down his face. He was in a pure state of shock. His hands shook as he held them out in front of him, like he wanted to grab for something, but didn’t know what he wanted to grab for. Ryan stared back, sitting up, his eyes widening by the passing moment, before he jumped out of the bed, and walked towards the other. He held out a hand to caress Colin’s cheek, wondering if it was all real. It was real. It was  _ real _ . Visceral. Shaking his head, he pulled Colin into a tight embrace, all the while ignoring the sobs and pleas coming from his lovers mouth, he was muttering his own apologies.

 

“Not yet, Ryan; it wasn’t supposed to be yet. Not yet, not yet….” 


End file.
